


Hell Hath No Fury Like A Woman Scorned

by Fogerty91



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: BAMF Warden (Dragon Age), Blackmail, F/M, Post-Canon Fix-It, Strong Female Characters, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 02:50:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20807303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fogerty91/pseuds/Fogerty91
Summary: Inquisitor Adaar was forced to make the difficult choice between Hawke and Alistair. In the end, Alistair stayed behind because "it was a Warden's responsibility". The forces of the Inquisition became victorious and spared the Wardens for their error in judgment if they agreed to help the Inquisition fight. A remorseful Leliana put quill to paper as she wrote a letter she had never wished to write, explaining what transpired. There was no reply. No one expected the answer to come strolling into Skyhold, one cold morning. Long absent Warden Commander Irene Amell, Hero of Ferelden, Arlessa of Amaranthine and Champion of Redcliffe has come in person, and she is as unforgiving as a storm on the Waking Sea.





	Hell Hath No Fury Like A Woman Scorned

**Author's Note:**

> Is it just me or did your Warden Mage also end up extremey overpowered at the end of Origins and all the DLC's? Mine was a Battlemage in the beginning but ended up dabbling in almost everything by the end. She was a powerhouse both in boss battles and crowd control, alone or in a party. She is one of my favourite characters of all time and I've played all the games more times than is probably healthy :P   
I wrote this quite some time ago when I just couldn't get over that one choice and just needed an outlet.   
Hope you like the story!

The castle, now known as Skyhold, had been in disarray since the battle with the Wardens. They had too many wounded and not enough healers to care for them. This was stretching their forces thin and progress had been slow. The inner circle used the time to prepare for the coming ball in Orlais while the advisors were writing letters to the families of those they’d lost. One of these letters hurt more than any other, according to Spymaster Leliana. Especially since she knew how hard Irene Amell would take it.   
A week had passed since her courier returned without a rebuttal from said Warden and it was worrying. Amell spoke her mind and rarely valued silence, after all. It was one of the most endearing – or annoying – qualities about her, along with her easy humor and good heart. For that reason, Leliana was the only one not surprised when scout Rivers burst into her room one morning, reporting on a disturbance by the gates.   
Warden Commander Irene Amell had reached a level of rage she had not felt in years. Somewhere deep down, she knew she was redirecting her sorrow but was beyond caring. Rage was more productive, regardless, and she used that emotion to fuel her. Entering Skyhold had been easy, and she briefly considered fighting her way through the fortress, but decided to call that plan B. Instead, she glared frostily at the guard who stopped to ask about her business, at the gate.   
“I need to speak to your… Inquisitor. Where might I find him?” she asked just as coldly.   
“Ah-h,” the guard hesitated, definitely taking in her dirty face and battle worn armor. She did not look like a diplomat or a noble. “You would have to book an appointment with the chief diplomat, Lady Montilyet. It will probably take a few months. The Inquisitor is a busy man.”  
Well, at least he was trying to be helpful, she thought. Any other day and she wouldn’t push this hard as she would probably have better luck with Leliana, but today she had no intention of being denied. Additionally, she was not very pleased with Leliana right now either.   
“That won’t be necessary. I will find him myself,” she said instead and moved passed the startled guard.   
“Wh-what? Hold on!” he stammered, attempting to stop her, but she shrugged him off without missing a beat. He finally felt obliged to draw his sword and two more patrolling guards joined him in surrounding her.   
“Hand over your weapons,” one of them ordered and she almost laughed.   
“No,” she responded deadpanned and they advanced. Sighing, she sent out a mass paralysis and walked around them. She made it up to the first flight of stairs before she was stopped again.   
“Halt, mage!”  
“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” scowling, she drew her own sword at the sight of ten armored guards in ridiculous helmets. Plan A was definitely a failure, time for plan B. A heavy cloud of miasma gathered over them and they started to panic. She used the hilt of her blade to knock them out one by one, dancing away from their erratic swinging of sharp blades. It was beyond obvious that they had only been fighting for a few months. Their technique was atrocious.   
Unfortunately, someone had called for backup. Backup in the form of a certain blond templar, or former templar judging by the new armor. He brought another group of soldiers, including archers this time.   
“What is the meaning of this!” he roared. She ignored him and kept walking until a warning arrow landed in the dirt a foot ahead of her. Her control started to crack. Something about seeing Cullen – someone she associated with her old Circle and the Blight – made her even angrier. How dare he speak to her after all he’d done and said in the past?   
The air around her turned iridescent blue and swirled like the beginning of a hurricane.   
“Speak! Who are you and what do you want?”   
Snarling, she turned to meet him head on. “Stay out of my way, Rutherford! I’m only interested in your so-called Herald.”   
This, apparently, only confused him further. “How do you know my name, mage? You are not one of our recruits.”   
Exasperated now, she growled and charged at them. The earth beneath them trembled, sending the average soldiers to their knees, before she locked the Templar in a crushing prison. She swiftly knocked the soldiers out before Cullen managed to purge his cage. Unfortunately for him, her body was augmented with dexterity beyond his. It was almost child’s play to kick his legs out from under him, kick the sword away and pressing her own sharp blade against his throat.   
“Do you require glasses in your dotage, Templar? Or are you going senile?” She could see the wheels turning in his head but he had no time to answer before another familiar voice called out to her.  
“Irene!” It was ambiguous – a caution and a greeting in one – and she recognized it at once. Cullen’s eyes all but popped out of his head in recognition, and she almost smirked, but settled for raising an eyebrow.   
“Leliana,” she greeted her former companion, finally taking her eyes off the Templar, though not her sword. The woman in question came scurrying down the stairs, but hesitated when she reached the still swirling pool of power around Irene. A power Irene had no intention of repressing.   
“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” the redhead conversed gently  
“No, I didn’t. I was busy, had other letters to write. I believe you will enjoy what they had to say. Frankly, it’s why I’m here,” the blonde Warden replied with none of her usual friendly tone.   
“Ok,” Leliana paused. “What brought all this on?” She gestured around the area littered with unconscious soldiers.   
“I told the idiots at the gate that I needed to speak to your Inquisitor and he referred me to some diplomat and mentioned a several months long queue. I decided to ignore such advice.”   
“I… see. Would you mind letting the Commander off the ground?”  
Grudgingly, she did so, and the offended Templar busied himself with brushing off dust from his distasteful fur-piece.   
“Let’s take this to the war room. Get lady Montilyet, scout Rivers. Cullen, would you mind waking the Herald?”   
Leliana led Irene into the main building and through a number if doors until they found themselves in a big room with a large oak table and numerous maps. Irene took a seat with her back against the wall – old habit by now – and crossed her arms while slouching. Her body language silently communicating that she was bored but dared anyone to try anything. A predator relaxing in its environment.   
It didn’t take long for the door to open again and three people walked in, one of them being the Templar/Commander. The second was an antivan lady in a golden getup while the last was a giant qunari. The Inquisitor, she realized.   
“What is this about, Leliana,” the antivan asked. The redhead gestured toward Irene. “A guest? At this hour?”   
“Allow me to introduce Warden Commander Irene Amell Theirin, Hero of Ferelden,” Leliana introduced and the giant qunari started fidgeting. Irene narrowed her eyes angrily.   
“Hero of -,” the gold clad woman trailed off. “Welcome to Skyhold, Warden Commander. What can we do for you?”   
“How kind of you to ask,” Irene snarked, still frosty enough to cause a blizzard. She pulled out a stack of letters from her satchel. “I’ll begin with putting things in perspective. These are all the leaders and major organizations who are willing to boycott the Inquisition on my say-so. You will lose all their support, and some have agreed to name your volunteers and employees as traitors if they do not leave your organization.”  
The Antivan lady scanned the letters with big eyes. Leliana pressed up close to her and read over her shoulder.   
“You mean to blackmail the Inquisition?” Rutherford demanded incredulously.   
“Nothing so fanciful. I’m just making sure you know the consequences of denying me a request,” Irene explained with a careless wave of her hand. “I have no desire, nor time, to involve myself in the matters of the Inquisition.”  
“These are letters from Queen Anora, Arl Teagan, a number of Ferelden nobles, several Dalish clans, the Crows, King Bhelen of Orzammar and… and the Arishock,” the Antivan stammered.   
“I would’ve gathered more but I only had a week to work with. I believe they make my point, none the less,” Irene explained. The ‘Herald’ and the ‘Commander’ were both all but glaring at her now.   
“What is your request, Warden Commander?” the Herald spoke with a clear and pleasantly deep voice. Irene looked him straight in the eye with as much steel as she could muster.   
“I want you to open another rift at Adamant.” Understanding flashed through the giant qunari’s eyes and his expression instantly softened.   
“He’s gone, Amell,” he spoke softly, like he was soothing a child. All it did was piss her off.   
“That is a hypothesis that cannot be proven without evidence. Evidence I plan on collecting. You should really be grateful I consider it as such. If it was already proven fact, you and I would not be having this conversation. I would instead focus my energy on tearing your organization to pieces.” She allowed a menacing smile to spread at that. The whole group in front of her shuffled in discomfort.   
“Irene -,” Leliana started to say but she interrupted her.   
“No, Leli. This is not up for discussion. That’s why I brought the letters. I do not ask that you enter the Fade with me. I am quite capable of doing so myself. Despite popular belief, your Herald is not the first person to physically walk the Fade. He’s not even the first this decade.”  
They all looked quite alarmed by this. Irene turned her attention back to the Inquisitor.   
“So, what will it be?” 

The Inquisitor agreed to meet Irene at Adamant in three days. She would’ve argued but knew that any faster was simply unrealistic for ordinary people. Instead, she traveled ahead and spent the time brewing the strongest healing potions she could muster – which was a lot better than the ones the Inquisition had to offer. It was slow work, but it kept her thoughts from straying to dangerous places. Alistair was always the one to distract her from the darkness lurking behind firmly shut mental doors. He would give her that half-smile – the one which dimpled that one cheek and caused crowfeet to wrinkle in the corner of his eyes – and tell her one of his bad jokes.   
‘Why should you not write with a dull pencil?’ he could ask, making her laugh and shake her head. ‘Because it’s pointless!’ he would finish with that smirk of his.   
Irene sighed and turned her focus back to her brewing. No point in dwelling on memories just yet. If it proved too late, then she would follow him into the afterlife, but not just yet. First, she would search every corner of the Fade once again.  
This would the second time she entered the Fade physically, but it didn’t differ that much from the times she’d entered consciously while sleeping, she thought. It was like the Harrowing or the Sloth demon during the Blight all over again. She could handle it one more time. She had been weaker back then and still she’d managed just fine.   
On the third day, she finally spotted the shadows of a small group approaching from her perch atop the ruins of the fallen fortress. It looked like two qunari, one dwarf and either a human or an elf, based on their size.   
It was most likely the Inquisitor and his companions, but to be on the safe side, Irene stalked the shadows and listened to their conversation as they entered the fort.   
“It’s creepy being back here,” the dwarf complained. “I feel like there’re demons just waiting to jump out at us.”   
“The Veil is still awfully thin here,” the elf – not human – confirmed solemnly.   
“It’s just plain freaky if you ask me,” the second qunari with a giant hammer on his back grumbled. “Let’s just find this crazy Warden and get out of here. What is it with these people? Is completely bonkers and suicidal a job requirement?”   
Irene stepped out of the shadows wearing a smirk and a raised eyebrow. “In my experience, yes. But then again, I always did prefer to recruit oddballs. Birds of a feather flock together and all that. Just ask Leliana.”   
“Commander,” the Inquisitor greeted her while the others looked her up and down. She knew she didn’t look like much, covered in dust, sand and well-worn light armor. She was dressed to blend into the wilderness, covering anything that could reflect light or draw attention to her position. Even her bright blonde hair was covered with a piece of brown cloth. It was a sharp contrast to the fancy armor the four of them were wearing.   
“Inquisitor,” she replied, only sounding slightly sarcastic. “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”  
“Do you… have everything you’ll need?” he asked looking dubious.   
“Jupp. Don’t worry about little old me. Just keep the tear open for twenty-four hours and I’ll handle the rest. If I’m not back by then, you can just close it and be on your way.”  
Adaar still looked hesitant, but it was the elf who spoke. “You told the Inquisitor that you’d done this before? How is that possible?”   
“An entire village was pulled into the Fade a few years after the Blight. I went in and pulled them out of there. Along with a spirit of Justice, I believe you are familiar with Mr. Tethras,” she addressed the dwarf who she now recognized from the cover of his books.   
His eyes widened in surprise before caution settled. “You… you knew Anders as well?”  
“I recruited him,” she confirmed. “He had escaped the Circle too many times and the Templars were all but panting to make him Tranquil. A Warden’s life isn’t easy but it’s better than a soulless existence.”  
“Not sure you really helped in the end…” Tethras frowned and Irene gave him the full force of her cold stare.   
“Do not blame me for the consequences of your beloved religion. Wherever there is suppression there will be rebellion. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction, thus the harder your Chantry clampdown on the mages the harder they will rebel. It was inevitable. Anders was just the first spark.” She noticed how the elf was looking at her with something akin to appreciation while the others still appeared unconvinced.   
“If we are to stand here arguing theology, we will be here for days. Just open a rift and get out of my way,” she addressed the giant Inquisitor instead. He nodded and walked to the center of the square and raised a glowing hand.   
The air sparkled and Irene felt the air grow tingly with magic. She closed her eyes and focused on the newly formed rift. Her darkspawn senses couldn’t pick up on anything from here, but she had already guessed that she had to enter the Fade for it to work.   
“Hey, big guy,” she addressed the larger qunari of the two. “Mind giving me a lift?” she gestured towards the hole too high in the sky. She would never reach it without a ladder or something equally ridiculous. The warrior grinned eagerly and crouched down slightly, twisting his fingers together to form a place for her foot. She smirked before taking off into a run, stepping into his hands and felt herself get launched into the air.   
For a second, everything was bright green and then she saw the familiar rocky surroundings of the unfiltered Fade. It was darker than she remembered, but none the less nostalgic. She was overwelled by the pure magic of it before she shut down her senses, focusing on her Warden attributes.   
So far there were nothing sentient in sight, but that could change quickly. A slight ping reached her as she registered darkspawn blood, it was weak. She shapeshifted into her corrupt spider form and took off into a run.  
A few wisps followed her curiously as she scuttled past them. She ignored any other spirits she encountered and in turn they ignored her.  
It took almost half an hour before she found anything. Copious amounts of blood covered the ground, but not all of it smelled faintly of darkspawn. She rounded the corner and hesitated when she saw a giant spider lying ahead of her. It was covered in blood and looked dead. Creeping forward, she circled the unconscious – or dead – spirit/spider and noticed how her darkspawn senses pointed right to it. Her pinchers clicked in agitation.   
What the hell was this? Had this thing eaten Alistair?   
She circled the spider further before her many eyes caught sight of something that made her heart skip a beat. A familiar boot peaked out from under it. Alistair was beneath this giant monstrosity.  
She attempted to use her forelegs to budge it to no avail. This form was too weak. She quickly switched to her bear shape and tried again. The spider rolled slightly before returning to its infuriating position.   
Her eyes started to sting with unshed tears. She was so close. He was right there! He had to be alive for her to still sense him, but she couldn’t get him out! She needed to be stronger.   
Going through all her spells, Irene came up with nothing. Then it hit her. It might not be possible, she was here physically after all, but she knew of one form stronger than all of hers combined.   
Taking a step back and taking a deep breath, she focused on the feeling she hadn’t searched for in ten years, and changed. She grew larger than a bear. When she opened her eyes, her hands had fewer fingers and made of stone.   
She turned her slow golem form back to the dead spider and started tearing its legs off one by one. More blood trickled to the ground and spattered over her stone skin as she tore. Once all six legs were lying on the ground around her, she grabbed underneath the body and rolled it over using every muscle she could muster.   
Slowly, it started to roll over.  
It took her several minutes to turn the spider-body on its back, and she finally took a step back to look at what was hiding beneath it.   
His hair was rusty with dried blood, face swollen with a big blackeye, armor ripped and more red than Warden blue, but it was him.   
Irene fell to her knees as she switched back to her human shape. Her skills as a healer were limited, but she poured as much magic into it as possible. He was breathing more prominent when she was finished, and she hoped he would be able to swallow a potion, rather than choke on it.   
Silent tears rolled down her cheeks as she fumbled with her backpack to pull out her potions. The stubborn cork took two tries to get out and she almost missed his mouth because her hands were shaking so hard.  
“Come on,” she whispered as she lifted his head slightly and massaged his throat gently to force the fluid down.   
Now she waited for any sign of change. 

What must’ve been no more than an hour, but felt like forever, before a soft groan came from the wounded man’s chapped lips. Irene, who had been keeping an eye out for hostile spirits, almost tripped over her own feet in her hurry to get back to his side.   
Blood red fingers stroke his now less bruised cheek as she stared at his fluttering eyelids. The next sound was one of stress and confusion.   
“It’s alright,” she reassured him gently. “Don’t try to move just yet, I don’t know how much that first potion helped. You could still have some major injuries.” She fumbled with her satchel and pulled out a second potion. “Here, drink it slowly. I didn’t want to risk giving you more before you woke up, in case you choked on it.”  
Willing lips parted, and she stroke his blood crusted hair as he swallowed slowly, like it hurt.   
“That’s it. Just rest a bit more and it should kick in.”   
Soon enough, familiar forest brown eyes opened. “Irene?” It was weak but the relief of hearing his voice again was enough for her barely contained tears to burst forth. Sobbing, she kissed him like she was afraid he’d disappear again. His lips tasted like copper and herbs from the blood and potions. It was probably a testament to their way of life that it tasted like home.   
“You stupid, stupid man!” she cursed him when she pulled back, and would’ve punched him if he wasn’t so fragile. “Giant demon? Really?”  
A cough and a wet laugh answered.  
“Come one, we have to get out of here.” She helped him sit up.  
“I don’t think I can walk…”   
“No need. Can you ride or should I carry you?”  
“Not sure,” Alistair answered and shifted experimentally.   
“Carry it is,” Irene decided and shifted back into her golem form, startling her husband.  
“I didn’t know you could still do that!”   
“I’m always full of surprises, you know that. Now, up we go.” She picked him up like he was made of glass and held him close.   
“I feel like my masculinity should be threatened right now, but I’m too happy I don’t have to move,” Alistair joked weakly, making her heart soar even higher. To think she’d come so close to never hearing that weird humor again.   
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t tell the boys back home,” Irene teased him in her deep and gravelly golem voice, making him chuckle softly.   
The duo made their way back to the portal as quickly as her short, heavy legs could move them. This time they drew more attention than when she passed earlier, but the spirits kept their distance, almost like they were wary of them. Irene wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth and stomped past them all.   
The rift let them through without trouble, but she had forgotten how far up it was on the other side. She literally fell like a giant boulder from the sky, barely managing to keep her feet beneath her, and made a well-sized crater in the ground. Irene was, after all, even larger than Shale in this form – who had been filed down by her ignorant owner to fit inside the house.   
Alistair was sweating from pain and gritting his teeth, and she spent a few seconds fussing over him before she was startled by a shout. The Inquisitor and his companions had raised their weapons and she sighed in frustration.  
“Lower your pointy sticks, idiots. It’s me,” she grumbled as she trudged over to her camping site and gently lowered Alistair down on her bedroll.   
She changed back into her human form, noting that she was still covered in almost as much blood as her husband. She quickly stripped off her excess armor so that she was only wearing leather pants and a shirt, before fetching the bucket of water she had collected this morning. Then she began unbuckling her husband’s shredded armor with practiced hands.   
In the meantime, the startled warriors had calmed down and approached cautiously.   
Irene, who had just cut Alistair out of his sweater, began to remove his pants when he stopped her. “I don’t really feel like showing the full Monty to an audience, love.” He threw a meaningful look at the warriors watching.   
“You have underpants, darling,” she countered with a smirk. “And I do believe your injuries are a higher priority than your dignity. Besides, you don’t have anything they haven’t got themselves. Now lift your hips so I can get those trousers off, before I cut them up as well.” She swore she heard a few chuckles behind her at that.  
He sighed in resignation but did as he was told.   
“Do you need help?” the elf asked and sank down beside her.   
“If you have any healing skills, feel free. If not, start cleaning his wounds,” Irene ordered but threw a grateful glance at him for his offer. He nodded and began healing him, while she threw back a lyrium potion and began doing the same.  
She started feeling rather rude referring to her helper as ‘the elf’ even if it was only in her head. She wasn’t usually that impolite. “I never introduced myself, Irene Amell Theirin,” she offered as a way of rectifying that.   
The elf smiled back in gratitude. “Solas. A pleasure to meet you, Irene.”   
Alistair laughed. “Let me guess, you just walked up to the Inquisition and demanded they’d bend over backwards, while you didn’t even introduce yourself.”   
“I was in a bit of a hurry,” Irene conceded, a little bit embarrassed. “Diplomacy is rarely the fastest way of getting things done.”  
“Did you blackmail someone again?” he asked with a chuckle and twinkling eyes.   
“I prefer to call it forceful negotiation,” Irene sniffed but burst into giggles and went willingly when Alistair raised a tired hand and pulled her down into a quick kiss.   
Adaar sighed in sudden exasperation. “Did you learn that from Leliana or did you teach her? The two of you together is a rather frightening thought.”   
“My money is on neither, boss,” the other qunari said. “You only reach that level of ruthlessness from childhood.”   
Irene considered this. “I cannot speak for Leli, but I have always been known to get my way.”   
She turned back to Alistair and pulled out a piece of jerky and handed it to him. “Eat it slowly. We don’t want to shock your system when you haven’t eaten in ten days, even if the Fade works differently.”   
“How do you feel, Alistair?” Adaar asked, oddly subdued.  
Alistair took a second to answer. “I feel… tired, like I could sleep for a week.”  
“Not surprising, considering the size of that demon,” Adaar mused. “How did you even survive? Not that I’m complaining,” he added hastily when Irene threw him a frosty glare.   
“Not sure. I remember stabbing it repeatedly, and then everything went black.”  
“The bloody thing collapsed on top of you. I had to roll it off before I could see whether you were even alive,” Irene explained softly, but smiled when Alistair took her hand in his. “The silver lining is that it probably kept other spirits from approaching you.”   
“That’s my girl, the everlasting optimist even in the face of impossible odds,” Alistair joked with a deep laugh. “Everyone else had probably written me off, and I don’t blame them.”   
“Well, you always were the nice one. I, on the other hand, am quite capable of blame,” Irene smirked.   
“About that,” the Inquisitor butted in. “I feel that I owe both of you an apology. I should never have left Alistair to begin with, and I should have offered to help Irene before she gave us an ultimatum. She was right. I had no proof Alistair had perished, and I should’ve made sure. Even among mercenaries, you don’t leave a man behind, dead or alive.”   
He actually had the decency to look properly ashamed, thought Irene with some satisfaction.   
“None of that,” Alistair waved off the apology. “It could’ve happened to anyone – it’s what we signed up for. We all know the risks. Hawke’s not even military and he offered as well. If Thedas wasn’t so reliant on that sparkly hand of yours, then you would no doubt have offered to stay behind too.”  
“Don’t dissuade him, Alistair! He finally got what I’ve been trying to tell him all along,” Irene complained, somewhat good naturedly.   
“Yes, well, it’s good to see you made it, Alistair. If you need a place to recover then Skyhold has your old room available. Leliana would probably like to spend some time with the two of you, sans looming battle or blackmail,” Adaar continued but scratched his stubble to distract himself from his blushing.   
“And it would be awesome to watch you kick the Commander’s ass again. I can’t believe I missed the first time,” the other qunari added with a big grin. “Or even better, I could definitely go a round or two just to see if the woman lives up to the legend.”   
Irene shook her head but smiled slightly. “You sound like Sten. What do you think, Ali?” Alistair smiled sleepily but agreed. They ended up camping outside the fort for the night and headed back the next morning. For the first time in weeks, Irene fell into a restful sleep with her head on her husband’s chest and his arms securely around her. She was home.


End file.
